Four reasons to go to Pelléas et Mélisande #HF19

The Holland Festival, with its wide range of offerings, is sometimes its own competitor. For instance, I missed Turan Dokht and the premiere of Pelléas et Mélisande because at OUT LIGHT Sat. To attend a performance of Debussy's only opera, I had to skip Abd Al Malik's concert. - Cultural choice stress, frustrating on the one hand but a wealth on the other. Was it worth it? What I missed I cannot judge. But I can give you four reasons after my visit to the Stopera on 12 June why you should Pelléas et Mélisande should visit.

Enchanting staging

A weave of hanging steel pipes suggests the impenetrable forest in which Mélisande is found by Golaud. As soon as the music begins, the rods start swaying languidly, illuminated like a nocturnal magic forest. They give way to a triangular staircase that acts as King Arkel's castle. In ever-changing formations, the stelae also serve as Golaud's castle, a cave, a pond and as Pelléas and Mélisande's secret meeting place.

Consistently, set designer Pierre-André Weitz uses the triangular shape in this. An equally simple and effective reference to the difficult relationship between Golaud, his half-brother Pelléas and Mélisande. The mobile multi-functional scaffolding stabs the breathtaking sets in Stockhausen's OUT LIGHT to the crown.

Oppressive are the moments when giant trapeze-shaped panels slide down to form yet another triangle. Resembling the drop axe of a guillotine, they foreshadow the tragedy to come. Lighting designer Betrand Killy makes the suffocating atmosphere palpable with bright light accents on an otherwise dark stage. Thus, the staging strikes at the heart of the enigmatic atmosphere of Maurice Maeterlinck's text.

Stylish costumes

In the sombre-toned stage setting, the characters move about in black or grey tailored suits. The elegant cut of their three-piece suits recalls the early twentieth century, when Debussy composed his opera. Against this, Mélisande's pristine white outfits stand out incredibly. She is innocence itself, Weitz seems to want to shout at us. But on emergence she wears a sensual transparent robe, her nipples and thong visible to all. Perhaps the mysterious girl is less innocent than she seems after all? Golaud's son Yniold is also dressed in white, as if he too is merely a victim of circumstance.

Formidable singers

The National Opera has assembled a top-notch cast for this production. Russian soprano Elena Tsallagova, with her pure, unadorned voice and girlish charisma, is the ideal Mélisande. She knows how to touch your heart as an anxious adolescent besieged by the elder Golaud, as his depressed wife, as a love-struck baking girl and as a delirious woman who dies in childbirth.

Also impressive is Irish-American baritone Brian Mulligan as Golaud. With his sonorous voice and imposing appearance, he gives shape to the diverse aspects of his character. From cautious horny buck who is a #MeToo-together with Mélisande to barbaric squire who lets his subjects starve. He is equally convincing as a jealous husband who kills Pelléas, drags Mélisande by the hair on the ground and even on her deathbed asks about possible adultery.

Playing a starring role is British bass Peter Rose as the half-blind King Arkel. He shows remarkable insight into the troubled relationships between his grandsons Golaud and Pelléas. He moves in his compassion and his concern for Mélisande. The sovereign tone in which he accepts the fate that deprives him of both her and Pelléas is throat-cutting. Paul Appleby, unfortunately, is a somewhat flat Pelléas.

Completely on the benches we go for Maximilian Leicher of the Tölzer Knabenchor in his role of Yniold. Affectionately timid, he supports his great-grandfather Arkel in the first two acts. Feelingly reluctant, he then spies on Pelléas and Mélisande to answer his envious father's questions in a flawless voice.

In the fourth act, he sings a poignant solo full of ominous references to the impending tragedy. Leicher is a gifted actor and his French is flawless. Witty is the ostentatious boredom with which he listens to the interminable discourses of the adults in the last act.

The magical music of Debussy

'Prima la musica, dopo le parole' (first the music, then the words), is a winged adage for opera. For Debussy, however, the two are inseparable. Without exception, the vocal lines are set syllabically and follow the French idiom closely. The absence of colouratura and other typical operatic embellishments creates a great naturalness; the melody lines are distinctly flowing. This approach also greatly benefits intelligibility.

Debussy excelled in creating "vague, impressionistic" orchestral and choral parts. Sharp-edged melodic contours and strong rhythmic pulses are missing, the harmonies are not built from traditional tonality. Instead of propulsive purposefulness, Debussy writes music that stands still, as it were. We can wallow in a bath of brilliant timbres, larded with beautiful arabesques of wood and brass instruments. When Mélisande sings, we often hear a patch of harp, traditionally the instrument that symbolises innocence.

This in no way means that Pelléas et Mélisande would be a sweet kind of kitsch. Debussy creates a magical, elusive atmosphere that suits the symbolist narrative excellently. Beneath the picturesque surface, doom constantly rages, in low growling bassoons and double basses and softly rumbling timpani. Sudden silences, muted horns and eerie brass fanfares heighten the atmosphere of doom and inevitability.

The Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra is audibly familiar with this sound world, even the short solo motifs sound like clockwork. Too bad the orchestra sometimes drowned out the singers. As far as I am concerned, conductor Stéphane Denève could also have added a little more French perfume. But these are only minimal comments on an otherwise exemplary production.